


Letters she wanted to send

by yukiawison



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, I'm sorry I have a problem, letters fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 08:36:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5578738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't read the letters until she had made up her mind. But when she did she wrote out responses, not to send, to practice. She wanted strength when she faced him. She wanted to still the pounding of her heart enough so she could hear her own thoughts and put them in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters she wanted to send

She didn't read the letters until she had made up her mind. But when she did she wrote out responses, not to send, to practice. She wanted strength when she faced him. She wanted to still the pounding of her heart enough so she could hear her own thoughts and put them in order.

Dear Sister Bernadette,

I hope you are doing well. You are missed dearly at Nonnatus. Some of the patients have been asking after you and I have been sad to deliver the grim news. Not that I think your prospects are grim. I am fully confident that the sanatorium will cure you. It seems that they must.

Please write to me, if you wish, and if you feel up to it. I understand if you do not feel well enough to respond. I wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Dr. Turner

Dear Dr. Turner,

I wish I could send you this letter, to console you and to encourage you to write more. I cherish your words. I have run my fingers over the ink, tracing your slanted, nervous lettering. But I cannot respond. My heart aches and I am confused. Your letter stirred something in me that I didn't know could be stirred.

I wish I could write with all my heart but I cannot.

Sincerely,

Sister Bernadette

Dear Sister Bernadette,

I haven't received a response from you but I couldn't help but write you again. I hope that your lack of response isn't because you do not wish to hear from me again. If it is I will respect your wishes, but I sincerely hope it is not.

I am not gifted with words (as you can no doubt tell) but I hope that these letters can at least take your mind off of your illness. Things are alright back in Poplar. The TB screenings have done much good in preventing an outbreak. Even better, the community seems even more open to the idea of vaccinations and regular check ups. I can't help but think that is some of your doing.

Timothy misses you; he has asked after you often. He talks of training for the three legged race next year.

I miss you too.

Sincerely,

Dr. P. Turner

Dear Dr. P. Turner,

I wish I knew your full name so I could greet you warmly and personally. I wish I were permitted to whisper and shout your name, to hold your hand and look into your eyes and say it. But I am getting ahead of myself.

Your words are enough. I have never had the gift of eloquence but I can tell your words are sincere. You speak from the heart. I don't understand why you attribute these marvelous developments in the community to me. Surely it is you who have done the most good.

I miss Timothy and I miss you. I miss you so terribly.

Sincerely,

Sister Bernadette

Dear Sister Bernadette,

I remember the first day I met you. You were hurrying to a patient and muttered a hello. I remember your eyes on mine. I remember how bright and beautiful you looked even then, when I knew nothing of you and was certain I shouldn't be looking at you that way. I remember later, that I saw you on the steps of Nonnatus House, gazing up at the stars, your cheeks flushed from the cold and your habit flapping in the wind. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hugging yourself in the cold. I wanted to sit beside you, to wrap my jacket over your shoulders and keep you warm. But I had patients, and it wasn't right to be caught so instantly by the beauty of a nun.

I am sorry to still be writing you. I know you do not wish to hear from me.

I know what I did was wrong. I know and I respect your holy vows. I hope you can forgive me. I hope we can start over, as friends. Because I do very much want to be your friend.

I have heard that you are doing well from Nurse Franklin. I hope very much that you will be home soon.

Your friend,

Patrick Turner

Dear Patrick Turner,

I want to write. I can't bear to think that you believe I don't want to hear from you. I want to hear from you everyday, all the time, even at home I miss your kind words every instant you are away.

I remember that day as well. I remember the way my pulse quickened, and the way I ignored it. I remembered how I caught you staring, that evening on the steps. I remember jow I pushed my thoughts of you away, and how I hoped you wouldn't be as kind and as passionate as you seemed.

Dear, dear Patrick Turner I wish I could be yours.

Your friend,

Sister Bernadette

Dear Sister Bernadette,

I didn't mean to write but today has been taxing. And when things get rough I can only think of you.

You are beautiful. Your smile, your bright eyes behind your glasses, the way you are so dedicated to your work, everything I can think of is another thing that makes you beautiful.

You brighten every room. Your strength and your poise and your gentle voice make my heart burn.

I am sorry for writing again. If you are reading please take pity on me. I know not what I say.

Yours,

Patrick

Dear Patrick,

I can't remember the last time someone called me beautiful. But I am not. I can't be beautiful if I am causing you pain.

I miss Popular. I miss waking at dawn and singing in the chapel. I miss my sisters and the midwives who fill Nonnatus House with such life and joy and love.

I wish I was brave, but alas I am scared. Every time I think I am sure if what I want I get in my own way. I wish I could talk to you about all this. I trust you as much as I trust any of my sisters, though it seems I barely know you.

Yours,

Sister Bernadette

Dearest Sister Bernadette,

It is clear you are not reading these letters, so I'm just going to say it. I love you. I love you so much and it is killing me that you are sick and far away.

I wanted to cry when I saw your X-ray. It isn't fair that something so awful should happen to someone so good.

I love you Sister Bernadette. I know how ridiculous that sounds. You are a woman of God. You could never be mine to have. And we barely know each other. I do not know you in the way I want to. I only know that you are kind and skilled in midwifery. I know that you are passionate and brave and snuck your father's cigarettes when you were young. I know that you are beautiful and your hands are soft and that you care for your patients and my son. I know that I love you.

I want to know everything about you. I want to know how you feel about me. I want, though I know it is wrong, impossible really, you to love me as I love you.

Be well. I miss you desperately.

Love,

Patrick

My dear Patrick,

It took courage for you to say that I am sure of it. Now I have the strength to return that bravery. I love you Dr. Turner, Patrick. I return your love with all that I have. My heart is full and open when you are near me.

I tried to escape what I felt for you. I thought that God was testing my devotion. I was wrong. He was pushing me toward the life I want. He was pushing me toward happiness.

I pray that you still want me. I pray that you need me in your life as much as I need you.

Now I am preparing to leave. I have packed my things, shed my habit, and am ready to begin a new life. I am going to call you to let you know my wishes. I hope you will be waiting for me.

Love,

Shelagh

Dearest Patrick,

Our wedding is tomorrow. After everything I am finally going to be your wife. I no longer have to write to you. I have no need for secrets scrawled on paper. You are mine and I am yours.

I thought you might want to see the letters I wrote to you, so you could know how closely I read them, and how much they meant.

Now you are calling me so we can drive to work together. Later I will pick up my new dress. Tomorrow I will finally be your wife.

Love,

Soon to be Mrs. Shelagh Turner

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh this is so short sorry. If you have turnadette ideas hit me up. I need inspiration until next season.


End file.
